


Only Lonely

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-06
Updated: 2007-07-06
Packaged: 2019-05-15 13:52:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14791724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: CJ and Toby meet for the second time





	Only Lonely

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

  
Author's notes:

Eleanor, who ships and writes CJ and Toby, wrote a little drabble about CJ and Danny (" The Answer " ) When I asked her if that meant I had to write something about CJ and Toby, she said \"pppppppppplllllllllllllleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaasssssssssssssseeeeeeeeee?????????????\"

  


  
So I came up with something that would be consistent with my main story (\"Holding Hands on the Way Down\"), my AU story (\"Fold in Gently\"), and with canon.

  
This song is something I imagined in a pre \"Internal Displacement\" CJ/Danny story that I probably will never write, so I'm using it here.  


  
Maybe late teen - implied sex

  


  
Not mine, never were, never will be, but they consume my soul

  


  
Feedback ,comments, and constructive criticism always welcomed 

* * *

****

If You’re Only Lonely __

Late October, early 1980’s; Berkeley, CA 

Toby Ziegler glanced around the room where the Berkeley chapter of Young Democrats was holding its “We’re in the final stretch” rally-slash-party. He was looking to see if he recognized anyone from his last trip to the Bay area, some two years ago. 

Toby took a sip from his beer and grimaced. He could understand why the organization didn’t have liquor, just beer and wine, but surely they could do better than Bud Light and Almaden jug rosé. 

Then Toby caught sight of the back of a woman’s head; it rose several inches above the others in group of which she was a part. He moved around to get a look at her face. Yes, he remembered her. He remembered thinking that she was the most intelligent member of the organization and that if the young men who were in charge had any sense, they would elect her chair of the group. She went by initials, what were they – BK – PK – DJ – CA – CJ; yeah, that was it, CJ. 

She walked away from the group, heading toward the table that held the refreshments, such as they were. Toby quickly made his way to that side of the room. 

“Excuse me,” he came up beside her. “I believe we met when I was out here before. I’m Toby Ziegler from the national office.” 

She turned around to face him and he was taken aback. 

She was still attractive, she was still well-groomed, her hair shining, her makeup discretely flattering, she still had that funny welcoming smile. But her eyes were not the warm, inquisitive, constantly moving, constantly taking in everything orbs he remembered. The eyes he saw today were dull with repressed pain, with sadness, with loneliness. 

However, she responded warmly, saying that of course she remembered him, introduced herself (“I’m Claudia Cregg, but everyone calls me ‘CJ’ if they know what’s good for them”) and asked about his work. 

At first, they just made small talk, but very soon, the discussion became a serious one about policy and platform, about ideas to revive the ideals of the party. This CJ person had insight that would be valuable on a national level. 

Toby noticed that she took a sip of wine, made a slight face, reached for some Seven-Up and some ice, and transformed wine into wine cooler. 

“Listen,” Toby said, “would you like to go somewhere else, somewhere with a decent bar, and continue this discussion? I’m sorry, are you here with someone?” He thought he remembered a guy with her the last time. 

CJ told him that she was by herself and that she would like to get away from the “frat party” atmosphere of the room. 

There was a lounge attached to his motel. It was paneled, with booths and a couple of tables. Soft rock was playing and several couples were on the small dance floor. 

When the waitress came to the booth Toby had selected, she asked if they wanted to see menus. Toby asked if the place had hamburgers, and, when told yes, ordered one. No, he didn’t want cheese, didn’t want bacon, didn’t want mushrooms, avocado, or mung sprouts, just lettuce, tomato, a pickle, and some fries. And bring him a double scotch, up. 

CJ asked to see the menu, quickly perused it, then asked for a turkey club with a side of cole slaw “and four extra napkins”. When she asked for a grasshopper and a glass of water, Toby tried not to smile at the “girlie” drink order. 

They talked some more. CJ told Toby that she was in her first year of graduate school, in Poli Sci. When pressed, she admitted that she had been “right on the cusp between magna and summa” when she got her B.A., and that she had been accepted at Chicago and Stanford, but decided to stay at Berkeley for her advanced work. 

Toby told CJ that he had attended CCNY for undergrad and then got a law degree from NYU, but never took the bar because by that time he was so involved in the party that he didn’t have time to cram for it. He watched her dump the cole slaw on the extra napkins, press out the mayonnaise, and eat the almost dry cabbage. 

They finished their food, ordered another round of drinks, then a third. 

Toby was fascinated by the young woman sitting across from him, more fascinated than he should be. Once he left high school, he had dated several non-Jewish women, but never seriously. He had always assumed that when he was ready to settle down, he would marry within his religion, and his innate moral compass told him that if he wasn’t going to consider buying the cow, he shouldn’t sample the milk. Now, for the first time since he realized that Miss Julia Child was an unattainable dream, he considered the idea of a relationship with someone who had not been through a _bat mitzvah_. 

His cautious persona told him to slow down; just because she was at the Young Dems event by herself didn’t mean she was available. Toby hesitantly asked about the man he had met when he was here that first time. 

Apparently, three grasshoppers was at least half a grasshopper over CJ’s limit. CJ told him that she and the guy had been apart for almost 18 months, that he had decided he didn’t want to be a lawyer, that God wanted him in ministry. She told Toby that the guy – Paul – had tried to get into the local divinity school, but that Yale had claimed him. CJ told Toby that she panicked at the realization of the commitment Paul was asking of her when he suggested that she consider transferring to New Haven, or to somewhere else on the East Coast. She also panicked at the decision Paul was asking of her when he said he would sit out her final year at Berkeley, that he could try again next year, or she could apply to Yale for graduate school. 

CJ told Toby that she and Paul had written for some time. Then she called his family’s house in Albany over Christmas break. Paul’s mother answered the phone and said that her son wasn’t home, was out shadowing their pastor, doing hospital visitation. Mrs. Reeves told her how much her son was hurting, but that she was beginning to see glimmers of the man-child she had sent to Berkeley some two years ago. 

“Don’t rip at the scab, CJ. Don’t hurt my son again. Unless you are ready to commit to him, to bind yourself to him, please stay away.” 

Their letters became more sporadic. Then in early June Paul sent her flowers on the day of her graduation from Berkeley and she began to wonder if maybe, just maybe. She had dated casually, but never more than three times with the same guy; she had never felt the instant closeness, she had never reached the comfort level she had experienced with Paul. 

There had been lots of activity right after graduation, with all her family staying with her brother and his in-laws in Napa, and it wasn’t until three days later that she found time to call the house he was sharing with three other guys in New Haven in order to thank him for the flowers. When she did, some air-head guy answered the phone. Yeah, Paul, the cool black dude who shared the house with his cousin; he was out for two weeks on a mission trip in New York. Sure, he’d take a message; it was, like, no problem, man. 

CJ tried again three weeks later and the same air-head answered. Right, he was supposed to have passed along a message; sorry, he got into some killer weed and forgot. No, Paul wasn’t there; he was at the movies with some really good lookin’ babe. The other guys in the house were glad to see him finally taking an interest in the chicks. For a while, they were beginning to wonder, ya know. 

“So,” CJ finally said, “that’s my sad story. I’m afraid I ran away from the best thing that ever happened to me.” Then she smiled at Toby. “But you don’t want to hear all this. Do you dance?” She stood up and pulled him to the dance floor. 

As Toby danced with her, he tried to not be too happy, but he was glad she was no longer with the man he had met when he was first visiting Berkeley. There was no way he could have competed with that man. Plus, he didn’t think that the guy, Paul, was right for her. Not because he was black, Toby quickly reassured himself, he wasn’t bigoted, at least, he hoped he wasn’t, after all, there were plenty of folks who would rather see her with a black Christian than a white Jew (and some who would explode at having to see her with either), but because Toby sensed that G-d had something else, maybe someone else, in mind for CJ. 

The music switched to a slow song, and he gathered her close for the change in tempo. As they moved to J. D. Souther’s words, he took in the feel of her in his arms. __

“When the world is ready to fall on your little shoulders 

And when you’re feeling lonely and small you need somebody there to hold you” 

She moved in against him, shifted her body so that his left leg was positioned between her legs, and put her head down on his right shoulder. __

“You can call out my name when you’re only lonely” 

It took Toby about thirty seconds to realize that CJ didn’t realize the signals she was sending, for him to review their earlier conversation and to realize that the man she was missing was the only man to whom she had given herself. __

“Now don’t you ever be ashamed, if you’re only lonely.” 

It took Toby another ten seconds to realize that if he wanted, he could have her in his bed, just a few yards away, could be buried in the dark warmth of her, within ten minutes, could give her what she hadn’t experienced (except perhaps by self-release) for a year and a half. __

“When you need somebody around on the nights that try you” 

But Toby also knew that CJ was lonely and that her inhibitions had been compromised by however much alcohol was contained in four ounces of cheap wine and six ounces each of crème de menthe and crème de cacao. __

“I was there when you were a queen” 

Tomorrow she would be sober and tomorrow she would remember. 

Toby didn’t know whether or not he would ever have an intimate relationship with the fascinating creature who was dancing with him right now; he did know that if he took her to his room tonight, that any chance of having her in his life in the future would disappear with the rising of tomorrow’s sun. He did know that he wanted to continue to talk with, laugh with, argue with, dance with, and work with this woman. Having her friendship now and her possible love in the future was more important than having her body tonight. __

“And I’ll be the last one there beside you.” 

“CJ, it’s late; why don’t I take you to your apartment? Maybe we could have lunch tomorrow before I drive down to Palo Alto?” __

“So if you need me, all you gotta do is call me 

If you’re only lonely.” 

\-------------------------------------------------------------- 

To listen to part of the song as sung by the writer [Amazon.com link ](http://www.amazon.com/Youre-Only-Lonely-David-Souther/dp/B0000025GT/ref=pd_krex_po_t/103-3158571-6747006)

To listen to the entire song [ on YouTube—savageminstrel](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7N_oKdue1m4&mode=related&search=)


End file.
